


Nightmare

by TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal (lazysatyr)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Graphic Violence, M/M, Merryweather Heist, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, graphic drug use, poor Floyd, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysatyr/pseuds/TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Merryweather Heist has gone sour. After cleaning up the mess, Floyd has no choice but to return home to the biggest mess of his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Messes

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic contains intense and graphic Floyd abuse... ;O

Floyd climbed into the driver’s seat of the big-rig, all the stress and worry from the last few days could be read in a vague troubled look beginning in the crease of his brow.

“Ughh…” Lester winced, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses, “Okay, drive us downtown… I think I know someone who can help us get rid of this damned thing.”

Floyd nodded, starting up the engine. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Trevor throwing a fit through the rearview mirror. His mouth was moving, arms flailing, but Floyd couldn’t hear a single word of it. He huffed a laugh, relieved.

“God damn it Trevor… You always were a roaring pain in the rear end.” Lester seethed, turning on his tablet. The screen flashed on, reflecting light into Lester's glasses, illuminating his pudgy face.

“Heh... You’re tellin’ me.” Floyd remarked under his breath.

“Oh, uh yeah, aren’t you… _friends_?” Lester queried, his eyes lingered on the glowing screen.

“Friends? No, sir! Acquaintances? Just by association. My wacked-out cousin barged back into my life, and dragged that weirdo in with him, and now-now here they are livin’ with me in my fiancé’s condo.” Floyd fretted, realizing he was venting. He hadn’t really had the chance to talk about it with anyone _rational_ …

“You’re _LIVING_ with him? Dear god...” Lester said, finally glancing up from his tablet to look Floyd in the face with a somewhat sympathetic expression, “I can’t even stand being in the same room with him for more than 10 minutes.”

Floyd’s fingers trembled on the steering wheel. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard; 1:23 AM… Well, at least he didn’t have work tomorrow…

 

* * *

 

After spending a few long hours helping Lester dispose of Trevor’s ‘prize’, Floyd drove home an exhausted wreck.

He dragged himself up the stairs of the condo, fumbling with his keys only to find the door already unlocked.

Floyd shut the door behind himself as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to _wake_ anyone… but the hinges squeaked discourteously, causing him to cringe.

The apartment was dark, lit merely by the dim street lights through the windows. He glanced into the living room, finding the TV flashing seemingly random images as it sat on mute. He could see Wade’s legs dangling off the arm of the unsoiled sofa, his head lying against Trevor’s thigh. Trevor was sitting upright, a glass pipe in one hand, the other clutched around a mostly drunk fifth of whiskey, resting on Wade’s chest.

Floyd lingered momentarily in silence before attempting to slip into the bathroom unnoticed.

“Mmghh... Floyd…” Came that rough voice from the darkness. Floyd winced at the sound. No… No! G__ d___ it.

“Y-yes, Trevor?” Floyd asked timidly. He heard shuffling in the other room… He was likely getting up. No… No please.. He just wanted to get ready for bed…

“Were you and Lester… Mmm... _Successful_?” Trevor asked as he came from around the corner. Floyd could smell booze on him, even 5 feet away… Trevor staggered slightly, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. He was clad in nothing but his stained, grey sweatpants which sunk low on his hips. He looked particularly rugged in the dim light. Even in the darkness he could see Trevor’s intense, bloodshot eyes, studying his face.

“Yes s-sir. It’s all... taken care of… sir.”

“Good…” Trevor growled, his tone suggesting he didn’t really mean it. A scowl cut across his face, and Floyd had a guess at what he had on his mind... Trevor grunted disdainfully, reaching down to squeeze himself through his sweats, eyes finally breaking contact to give Floyd a once-over.

Floyd felt anxiety overcome him as Trevor loomed there in the hallway. The man always had a way of positioning himself right in the middle of everything, making Floyd feel as though there was no direction in which he could flee.

He took advantage of the brief pause and stepped into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him so he could have a few minutes to himself.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, seriously considering sleeping in the bathtub rather than facing Trevor again. He remembered that look that the monster had given him… Hungry... Like a salivating dog… The thought sent a violent shiver down his spine.

When Floyd finally reemerged from the bathroom, face washed, teeth brushed and flossed, Trevor wasn’t hanging around… So he headed straight for his bedroom. He dropped sleep clothes on his bed and quickly began to change, undoing his jeans and changing to his sweats when he heard the door open behind him.

His heart dropped.

“Hey… Why don’t we celebrate, eh?” Trevor snarked, more of a statement than a question. He stepped into the room, taking a swig out of a freshly opened flask of whiskey. He glanced at Floyd, instantly noticing the displeasure on his face.

“And what are you so fucking sad about? I just had a week’s worth of hard work go down the fucking toilet, and you don’t see _ME_ bitching.”

“I-I.. Didn’t say nothin’, Trevor…” Floyd practically whispered, before bending down to quickly pull up his sweatpants.

“Mmm _hhh_ …” Trevor let out a growl tinged with arousal, watching Floyd straighten. He had only then realized the other man was in the middle of changing.

“C-could I just get some sleep... sir? I-I’m pretty wiped out and I sure got a lot to do tomorrow…”

Trevor blinked, then his eyebrows narrowing treacherously. Floyd never did like that look. Trevor was running his tongue over his teeth.

“And leave me all alone!? _After the night I’ve had_?” Trevor snapped, his voice booming with unnecessary rage, "You inconsiderate little _shit_."

“P-please Trevor, keep it down, the neighbors will hear you!” Floyd begged.

“ _Ohh-ho-hooo_ , I’ll give ‘em somethin' to _overhear_ , cupcake.” Trevor seethed through clenched teeth, his eyebrows waggling as he took a step towards Floyd, further trapping him into the small space of the bedroom. His bloodshot eyes bulged, surrounded by those deathly circles, rounding out that wild animal look. Floyd could smell the whiskey on Trevor’s breath. He winced, moving to sit on his bed, eyes glancing at the door nervously.

“T-Trevor please, I just need to get some sleep... I-I feel like I’ve been runnin’ for days, and I just need to relax for a bit, o-okay?” Floyd said, trying his hardest to reason with the man, “I-I’ll help you with whatever you need tomorrow, alright!? Just let me have—“

“JUST-- hold on one moment, sweetheart...” Trevor cut him off impatiently, as if he wasn’t really listening anyway, raising his index finger in front of Floyd’s face to punctuate his words. He turned pointedly to Mr. Raspberry Jam who sat, defiled and in silence, on the desk behind him.

“Just keep your _FUCKING_ panties on, alright? I’m _GOING_ to if you'll just stop _screamin'_   for a moment!” Trevor snapped at the bear.

Floyd stared blankly ahead of him. Reason, it seemed, was never going to work on Trevor Philips…

“G-g-going to… w-what, exactly?” Floyd stuttered, eyes darting around, instantly regretting asking at all.

“Mr. Jam sure is a kinky little fuck, ain't he? How did he ever get to be such a pervy little bear? _Hmm_? It couldn’t _possibly_ be all the _pent-up_ sexual repression, now could it?” Trevor sneered, pointing abruptly at Floyd's crotch, his hand wandering dangerously close.

“I ain’t no kind of _repressed_ , sir. Now if you’d kindly leave my room, I need to…” Said Floyd, twisting his body away defensively and speaking in the most assertive tone he could muster. He was cut off again by Trevor, who was hooking a thumb in the front of the waistband of his own sweats, pulling them down slowly, arching his hips towards Floyd with a bemused grin on his scarred lips.

“Stop it right now, Trevor I don’t need this—“ Floyd held up both arms in an effort to push Trevor away, but the other responded faster than expected, grabbing his wrists and holding them so tight that his jagged fingernails dug into flesh.

Trevor forced Floyd back against his bed with a sudden burst of force. The only detail of Trevor’s face Floyd could see were the whites of his starved eyes as they stared into his soul.

“Trevor… Please--!” Floyd choked, staring up with pleading eyes at the alpha above him.

“What’s this I'm hearin'? You’re actually _begging_ for it?” Trevor mused, releasing one wrist to shove a hand down into his sweats to toy with himself lewdly.

In the middle of this, they both froze in that dire moment at the sound of the door opening. They both turned to find Wade, standing in the doorway, looking half-asleep.

It took a few seconds for the Juggalo to realize what he had stumbled into. Once it seeped in, his first instinct was to step forward and run one hand down Trevor’s forearm which lead into his pants, giving his wrist a squeeze.

“Trevor, how ‘bout you ‘n’ me go in the other room and leave Cousin Floyd alone?”

Trevor scowled at the suggestion and released Floyd’s other wrist to turn his full attention to Wade. He pulled his hand from his pants and backhanded Wade in the face, sending him into the door.

“How **dare** you fucking interrupt me while I’m in the middle of something?”

“I-I’m sorry Trev…” Wade said, holding a hand to his stinging cheek.

Floyd stared in utter dismay, a blank but rather wide-eyed expression plastered on his face.

“Mmmh… You _would_ be an easier lay than this pathetic turd.” Trevor grumbled, waving a hand towards Floyd.

Wade approached Trevor again, prepared for another blow to the face. He ran a few fingers over Trevor’s shoulder, up to his neck, stroking softly.

“But… _Mr. Jam_ won’t be happy about this… Ohhh well. Looks like you’ll just have to sort it out with him, Floyd.” Trevor said before leaning over toward the trembling man, as if to add a comment that the stuffed bear shouldn’t hear, “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes around that crazy fuck.”

Floyd stared into the middle distance, blank. He hadn’t realized it, but he had begun hugging his knees to his chest, shaking slightly. He felt somewhat relieved when it seemed that the other two were leaving…

He saw Trevor reach over and grab Wade’s ass as he followed the younger man out of the room.

Floyd sat there in silence for a few minutes, staring at the wall between him and his ‘housemates’… He didn’t realize he was spacing until he heard a cry from Wade through the wall. He heard a loud slap, then another, and another, sharp and quick, punctuated by Wade’s bitten off cries of pain. He could hear Trevor grumbling obscenities and was thankful he couldn’t hear them in detail.

Floyd was emotionally and physically exhausted, but he just couldn’t find sleep, thanks to the haunting sounds he heard through the walls… He got up and locked the bedroom door, feeling a little bit safer after that. Eventually he did drift to sleep, a bit after the noises ceased for the evening.

_Cousin Wade… This is what you’ve become…_

                                                                                                           

* * *

 

Floyd awoke many hours later, 2 PM… He felt exhausted still… It was gonna be one of those days…

He got up and found the house mostly empty. The door to the other room was cracked and Wade was curled in sheets on the otherwise empty bed.

 

_Trevor was gone?_

 

Floyd entered Debra's room, something he rarely did without permission, and stood over his cousin who was sleeping soundly in her bed. It was a mess, and... whre had all these dildos come from...?

He shook Wade’s shoulder, waking him up.

“Wade… _Wade_...”

His cousin stirred and rolled on his back, glancing up at Floyd with a confused, squinty sort of look.

“Th-thank you, cousin… You saved me…”

Wade rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of a hand.

‘Huh? Whatcha mean, Floyd?”

“From.. T-Trevor…” He said, half of the name was a whisper. He glanced around nervously, “How can you just let him… do that to you?”

“Aww Floyd, Trevor’s not so bad. He helps me, so I help him back.”

“He beats and molests you, Wade!” Floyd said frantically.

“’S' all the way you look at it Floyd. Trevor has helped me more than he’s hurt me.”

Floyd felt a knot in his stomach… Wade truly was a lost cause…

“Well then y-you need to get him out of here, Wade. I can’t continue living like this! He’s ruined _everything_ , and I’m not sure I can make it right before Debra comes home. She’s already gonna kill me as it is!”

“Yeah, yeah cousin. Just a few more weeks.”

Floyd scowled, balling his fists in anger. He wanted to say something biting, but couldn’t find the words, so instead he went to work cleaning up one of the many, many messes around the condo.

 

[To be continued…]

 


	2. Shaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Trevor away working on jobs, Floyd enjoys some time to himself, though even he doubts deep inside that he has seen the last of Trevor Philips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just after completion of "I Fought the Law."

Franklin and Trevor stepped out of the unassuming garage and into the warm Los Santos evening air, still buzzed from racing super cars along the highway just 10 minutes prior.

“Man, you need to chill on that Molly woman, T.” Franklin said, giving Trevor a stern look, "That's all I'm gonna say."

“Mmh, something about that ice queen reeeaaally gets me _hot_.” Trevor practically purred, his tongue trailing across the surface of his chapped lips.

“Whatever man, I guess I’ll see you later, homie.” Franklin said, shaking his head and waving a hand as he walked away. There was nothing he could ever say that would change Trevor’s mind.

Trevor grumbled, watching Franklin walk up the street. He felt an unnerving feeling roll through him, irritation drawing his brows together. He didn’t know what it was the last few days, but he had this insatiable… thirst… for _something_. He couldn’t quite describe it, but it was constantly there, clawing at him.

The adrenaline high he'd gotten from driving 110 on a crowded highway left him rattled. All that excitement and adventure for _NOTHING_.

Fuck Devin Weston… Trevor already had a bad taste in his mouth just thinking about that decadent fuck.

…Well, playing a cop sure was fun at least... And driving fast cars through traffic like a madman did have its kicks.

_Grr, fuck these pants are tight._

He was still wearing his bike cop uniform, and the chaffing wasn’t helping with his aggravation. He struggled to readjust his junk to a more comfortable position, but gave up after merely managing to give himself a semi.

He huffed, annoyed, on edge. He needed something to help him… _relax_ …

He got into his truck and started it up, veering off to find a hideaway. A homeless camp under an overpass served the purpose well, so he pulled into a quiet spot and cut the engine of his truck.

He leaned over to the glove box and popped it open. A handgun fell out and hit the floorboard with a clunk. He ignored it in favor of pulling out a plastic bag which contained a spoon, a baggie of crystal and a syringe, still in its sterile packaging. He prepared a bit of meth with water in the spoon, filled the syringe, cleared it of air bubbles and found a good spot on his arm to shoot up.

The world was soon swirling around him and his teeth began to chatter in his skull unless he held them clenched.

Everything felt fucking _dandy_ …

It was always stronger when he shot up. It excited him. Every time he stuck a needle in his arm it reminded him of his first time jacking-up drugs, so long ago now....

Trevor almost forgot to remove the needle from his arm before starting up the Bodhi again, hands shaking. He rarely felt so high anymore, but this particular batch was kicking his ass.

_Compliments to the Chef._

Though his mind whirled like a dervish, he suddenly developed a plan for how he'd spend the rest of his evening...

 

* * *

 

Floyd had spent a good majority of his weekend blissfully Trevor-free, and he _almost_ felt relaxed.

Perhaps 'relaxed' wasn't the word... Rather, he felt fairly rejuvenated by the peace and quiet, despite the fact that he couldn’t seem to evade the paralyzing nightmares he’d had ever since that night he’d first laid eyes on that... that _psychopath_.

He had one reoccurring nightmare in particular that haunted his thoughts; _a dark form looming over him wherever he went, his skin crawling as if insects writhed beneath his flesh. And then there was that grin, taunting him; sick and scarred and distinctly Trevor’s, reveling in his squirming, encouraged by Floyd’s discomfort and pain. And then, when that dark form reached toward him, he almost always awoke with his heart pounding in his chest._

He _had_ been feeling better though… and at least Wade had made himself scarce the last few days too… He even caught up with cleaning up after the disgusting messes those two animals had made.

Today was a standard, run of the mill, boring day at work and boy was Floyd thankful for it. By the time he got back to his neat and tidy apartment, he was ready to take a night off. He was enjoying a cheap, near-tasteless microwave dinner, and had even nabbed one of Trevor’s beers from the fridge as a small treat for himself. But was half-watching some awful reality TV show when he heard a sudden, stark pounding at the front door.

“LSPD! _OPEN UP_!” Boomed a voice from the other side, and Floyd nearly dropped his beer.

He looked all around in a panic… There was incriminating evidence EVERYWHERE.

“Uh one-one moment please!” He shouted, standing in the foyer, trying to think of what to do. He eventually relented and came to the door, peering through the peephole, only to catch sight of a badge gleaming back at him through the tiny hole. He unlocked everything but the chain lock and turned the handle.

“Officer, h-he ain't here! I ain’t seen him in days!” He stuttered, before realizing… that’s not an LSPD uniform…

Trevor raised a jackbooted foot and slammed it against the door violently, breaking the chain lock and sending the door slamming into the wall, leaving it rattling in its hinges.

“Were you _REALLY_ just about to sell me out, Floyd!?” Trevor roared, his wide eyes bulging with anger, visible even through his aviators.

“N-n-no-no, Trevor! I-I—“

Trevor grabbed Floyd by his flannel shirt and yanked him in close, bearing his teeth in a furious snarl.

“That makes me crave sweet meats, sugar.” He breathed, his voice low, barely above a whisper, but the inflection screamed danger.

“Trevor I-I-I’m sorry! I panicked, alright? I-I panicked!” Floyd whimpered, shaking uncontrollably. He could feel an insane, sickening vibration radiating from the other man as he held him there.

The calm that had settled in the condo was already shattered by mere seconds of Trevor’s presence.

Suddenly, Trevor released him, and Floyd stumbled backwards, knocking into the small credenza by the door, nearly falling on his ass.

“Let’s play, Floyd.” Trevor grunted, taking a step through the door and hefting a fire axe onto his shoulder, to the utter bewilderment of the other man. Floyd hadn’t noticed it in the Trevor’s grasp before, and it added yet another shade of horror to his already complex expression of utter horror.

“I’m going to play the big, _baaaad_ piggy. And you..." Trevor's eyes studied the trembling man's face, biting his bottom lip in his brief pause, "You’re gonna play the defenseless, uneducated civilian. It’ll be good old fashioned _fun_.”

Floyd was aghast. There was a brief pause; and his gaze shot from Trevor's taunting smirk to the dangerous looking tool at Trevor’s shoulder…

He took the fleeting opportunity to take off running towards his room. Trevor reached out to grab at him, but Floyd dodged his grasp and slammed the door behind him, locking it.

Trevor stared blankly for a moment. He stood up straight and calmly shut the front door. He stepped slowly towards Floyd’s bedroom, his boots resounding against the wooden floor as he went.

“Oh, Floyd…”

Floyd stared at the door in horror, but soon turned toward the window and peered over the balcony… It was a long drop… maybe he could tie a sheet to the banister and…

**_THWACK_ **

The axe struck the door with a disheartening crack, shaking it at its hinges.

“Open the door Floyd, or I’ll **_thoroughly_** ruin you.”

Floyd felt his heart sink. He stared at the balcony again…

He could tie a sheet to the banister… and rappel down… and…

Trevor put a boot to the door and pulled the axe out with a splintering snap. Then he drove it in again.

**_THW-CRACK_ **

Floyd jumped and spun around again.  He could see where the axe was already driving clear through the door.

“A-alright Trevor, alright!” He whimpered, coming to the door and unlocking it. The door swung open, axe still imbedded.

“Mmm, hotlips, that frightened prey animal thing _really_ does somethin' for me...” Trevor purred, squeezing his visible erection through his tight trousers.

“Please, N-no T-Trevor… I-I don’t consent.” Floyd said, raising his chin, attempting to assert some sort of dominance… As if it had worked before.

“Aww, Floyd, don’t be like that.” Trevor pined before licking his dry lips.

Floyd trembled, glancing around… He should have tried to escape… He should have tried…

Something caught Trevor’s eye behind Floyd; a pair of pink pajamas discarded on the floor. They were probably Debra’s, but Trevor didn't give a fuck who's they were. He leaned down to pick them up, and Floyd took the only opportunity he believed he had.

He shoved a hand against Trevor’s shoulder and pushed him aside with all his weight, slipping behind him to head for the front door.

Trevor spun around, quickly grabbing the other man's belt.

“Nuh-uh-uh…” Trevor growled, yanking him back, pulling the back of his pants down a bit in turn, putting him back in his place.

“Put these on.” Trevor said, shoving the pajamas against Floyd’s chest. “ **Now**. Or I'll skin ya alive.”

“N-now-now Trevor, I-I-“

“ _NOW, FLOYD!_ ” Trevor barked, irritated.

He had to admit to himself, he loved the way Floyd cowered when he raised his voice; it stoked that flame deep inside him, which drove him clear past limits.

Floyd ruefully gazed down at the pajamas in his hands. He turned away and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling Trevor’s gaze upon him. It made his skin crawl, hearing Trevor groan in approval, watching him undress.

“C’mon, make it pretty for me now, sugar…” Trevor purred as he squeezed his aching hard-on through his pants, scrutinizing every twitch Floyd made as he nervously changed clothes.

Trevor couldn’t help himself when Floyd pulled his pants down. He took a step forward and pushed a hand into the back of Floyd’s boxers to grope at his ass.

Floyd yearned to beg for mercy but cut himself off before a single word could escape his tongue. He already knew anything he said would only spur Trevor on.

“Hurry it up, sweet cheeks.” Trevor breathed, still palming himself idly through his pants.

Floyd finished pulling the too-small pajamas up his hips, and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He turned away, feeling exposed and vulnerable… He didn't look up to see if Trevor approved; couldn’t stand to look at that weirdo touch himself…

“Now, show me that lil' _thing_ of yours.” Trevor said, a coy smirk stretching across his lips.

“I-I refuse…” Floyd managed, and Trevor’s face instantly twisted in anger. He reached over and forcibly yanked the pajama bottoms down, his gaze following to get a good look at the other man's junk.

“Aww, look at it, it’s kinda... _cute_.” Trevor said with a cocky grin.

Floyd felt his face turn red.

“T-Trevor, this is too far! How can y'do this in good conscience?” Floyd trembled. Before he could react, Trevor was stepping toward him, reaching out to grasp him in one calloused hand. Trevor's hand groped him, rough and precise, forcing a physiological response.

He entertained the idea of getting to his knees and sucking him off--

No. Wait. **_He_** was supposed to be the _big, bad_ **cop**.

The hand that groped Floyd's twitching little dick released its grasp, to Floyd's initial relief, but soon placed itself on the other man's shoulder, urging him downward.

“On your knees.” Trevor commanded, his voice rough and merciless.

Floyd visibly crumpled, but didn't sink like Trevor had hoped... His hands came up to cover his face.

“I said on your _fucking_ knees.” Trevor growled through his teeth, his hand sliding impatiently to the back of Floyd’s neck, pushing on pressure points to force him downwards.

Floyd sunk to the floor a defeated mess. Trevor pulled one of Floyd’s hands away, then used his other hand to steer his face toward the bulge in his pants. Floyd winced hard at the feeling of that warm, hard thing against his face. The scent drove a shiver up his spine, fine hairs raising on end at the back of his neck.

“C’mon cupcake, play along…” Trevor grumbled, his fingers caressing the hair at the back of Floyd’s skull.

Floyd froze, face still buried in Trevor’s crotch.

Trevor heaved a sigh, Wade was right, _Floyd really was a stick in the mud_. With little more than a grunt, he began grinding his hips into Floyd’s face, causing him to squirm uncomfortably, his disgust prompting him to attempt to pull away.

Trevor couldn’t take it any longer; he reached for his belt, pulling it apart, then went for the button and fly, finally releasing his length from those mercilessly tight trousers. Floyd gained a terrified expression as he caught Trevor’s cock bouncing free from his trousers. He stumbled backwards, falling against the bed, clinging to the bed sheets with both hands.

Trevor noted the lost look on Floyd’s face and considered that any head he could possibly get out of this would be less than satisfactory anyway, so he might as well switch tactics.

"Worthless shit!" He spat, leaning forward slightly to ball his fists in Floyd's pajama top, pulling him back to his feet.

“Hands behind your head. You’re under arrest for possession of _that ass_.” Trevor grunted, holding a deathly-straight face.

Floyd didn’t respond at first. He was on the verge of suppressing this memory in its entirety.

Trevor scowled and roughly grabbed Floyd’s hips, twisting him around and shoving him roughly down on the bed.

“I said, hands on your fucking head!” Trevor seethed, and Floyd finally complied, his chin dropping against his chest. His hands wearily and shakily came to hang at the back of his neck.

Trevor lined his hips up behind Floyd, rubbing his hard-on against the other’s soft, clothed ass. He came down on one palm over the other, inhaling the other's scent; a combination of soap, sweat and fear.

The abrupt contact made Trevor breathe hard against Floyd’s shoulder.  The friction of his cock pressed against the soft fabric of Floyd's pajamas drove him up the wall. He felt hypersensitive, and the throbbing had become nearly unbearable. He parted his lips and bit at the nape of Floyd’s neck, the sensation sending a pulse through his cock which caused him to leave a small, damp trail of precum along the other's posterior.

 

_Make him cry._

 

“Would you **_please_** , Mr. Jam!?” Trevor snapped, shattering the nervous silence with his booming voice before craning his neck to direct his gaze at the crusty old bear, suddenly remembering the jar of petroleum jelly sitting beside it. He glanced at Floyd again, new ideas swirling in his skull. He reached down and took Floyd’s wrists, pulling his hands from his neck to twist them behind his back.

“You have the right to remain silent.” Trevor breathed against his neck, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt to slip around Floyd’s wrists with a soft, sliding click, locking them behind his back.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you to humiliate you in front of loved ones.”

“T-Trevor, this ain’t right…” Floyd cried, testing his bindings.

“Mmm, but it _feeeeeels_ so right, sweetheart.” Trevor purred into Floyd’s ear, and with that he shoved Floyd's chest into the mattress beneath him.

Trevor stroked his length impatiently. He pulled back his foreskin and ran the sensitive tip of his length against Floyd’s back where the pajamas didn’t reach, then down the clothed crack of his ass.

“Nnghh fuck.” Trevor strangled out. He couldn’t remember a time when he was more wound up than this...

He leaned down and sank his teeth into Floyd’s shoulder blade, running the head of his dick down the ridge of his ass. He saw Floyd’s fingers tighten into fists and he yanked the pink pajama bottoms down, exposing his pale ass.

“Gotta make sure you’re not concealing any weaponry.” Trevor mused, his fingers traced the waist of Floyd’s pajamas, then dipped into the front of them, groping him roughly again.

Floyd swallowed hard as he felt hot, unfamiliar flesh press against his ass. He twisted his face around so he could get a breath of air. He felt Trevor’s hips press against his bare ass, Trevor’s hard-on slipping between his legs. It rubbed and poked and prodded, twitching hard enough for Floyd to feel against his thighs.

 

_Go in dry._

 

Trevor couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled away from Floyd and stepped over to the desk behind him, taking the jar of petroleum jelly in hand.

“Even I am not _that_ much of an animal, Mr. Jam.” Trevor stated matter-of-factly.

He returned to his victim, who lay bound and helpless on the bed, running his tongue over his chapped lips.

“Now, where were we...?” He asked sardonically, unscrewing the jar’s cap. “I suppose cavity searches are in order.”

He scooped a few fingers into the jar and rubbed a generous portion of the lube onto his cock. He ran a slick finger down Floyd’s crack and pressed his middle finger against his asshole, watching Floyd squirm and quake. The lubricant was quite effective, and his finger slid in easily - at least, easily for Trevor. Floyd’s hips rolled forward in response to the repulsive feeling of insertion.

Floyd let out a pitiful cry and struggled uselessly against his handcuffs.

Trevor could feel Floyd’s ass tense around his digit… soooo tight. He let out a sigh, pushing his finger as far in as it would go. He pulled it out slow, then forced it back in, another one with it this time. His fingernails bit at Floyd's tender flesh, forcing pained sounds from him.

Floyd bit down on his bottom lip, the feeling was so beyond violation, he was beginning to blank out. His fingers scraped desperately at the metal cuffs around his wrists.

Trevor bit down on his tongue as he pulled his fingers out. Unceremoniously, he took hold of Floyd's hip with one hand and pressed the tip of his cock against his ass, unable to resist the urge to force himself in with no regard for his captive's wellbeing.

He eased the first inch in, then began to thrust in short, quick bursts, pushing more and more of himself inside with each invading thrust. The lube made it a relatively smooth endeavor, but Floyd was so tight around him, clenching to try and force him out; he knew he wouldn’t last long.

Floyd felt tears sting as they came to his eyes. He choked back an angry cry, holding it in his throat, causing his face to go red. It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and his chest against the bed made it a struggle to breathe.

Trevor moved his hands to grab the handcuffs between Floyd’s wrists, pulling him up backwards off the bed. He moved his grip to the other’s forearms and held him up, making it a little easier to thrust further inside. He took the opportunity to thrust in sharply, dragging a sob out of Floyd.

Trevor held Floyd as close as he could, placing his head on the other man's shoulder, looking down at his face, which was tilted forward in utter defeat. He nuzzled Floyd’s ear with his nose.

“You feel so good, Floyd… We shoulda done this sooner...” He groaned, voice wavering just a bit. His breathing became uneven as he panted into his neck..

Floyd’s face twisted in either sadness or anger and Trevor moaned carelessly.  His thrusts doubled in rhythm and he could feel the lube wearing thin. It didn't matter much though, he was so deep, he didn't need to move much anyhow.

Trevor tugged on Floyd’s bound forearms, pulling him back into his chest. He was already so wound up from a day of anti-climaxes, he desperately needed sweet release.

Trevor let out gruff, animalistic groan as he pounded Floyd’s poor ass with little composure, and before he could really get a solid rhythm, he felt his orgasm spiraling through him like a derailed train.

_I-I can see into the void…_

Trevor pulled out suddenly, shooting his messy load all down Floyd's backside..

He stood there a moment, wobbling on his feet, his head in a dense fog...

Floyd collapsed wearily with his chest on the bed… It was over… and… it hadn’t hurt as bad as he had feared... It was the shame panging inside of him that ached worse than anything else…

Trevor grumbled something incoherent, unbuttoned his uniform shirt and pulled it off. He wiped himself down with it, gazing admiringly at his work before him. To Trevor, it was like a completed artwork, only his ‘paintings’ were crafted with fear, shame and bodily fluids.

He picked up a discarded shirt from the floor and placed a hand on Floyd’s back, making him flinch reflexively. Trevor leaned down and licked up a bit of his own come from Floyd’s tailbone before wiping the rest up with the shirt, savoring the bitter, salty flavor as he reflected on the horrific deed he had committed.

Depravity thrilled Trevor to no end. Long ago he had wished to find the limits of what he would do, and soon found there wasn’t much he _wouldn’t_ do, especially when it came to sexual or violent acts. He was okay with that, to the detriment of everyone around him.

Floyd struggled uncomfortably, writhing slightly. The cuffs jangled.

“Oh… Yeah.” Trevor said, beginning a search for the keys that went with those cuffs. He grumbled, searching all the endless pockets of the shirt.

“Uh-oh, Floyd. I dunno if there’s a key…” He said, his tone making it difficult to decipher whether he was kidding or not. But then in a moment of relief, he finally found them and unlocked Floyd’s wrists. Floyd let out a pained grunt, bringing his strained and aching arms to his chest to rub worriedly at his bruised wrists.  After lingering there for a moment, he began to crawl weakly into a fetal position on the bed, trembling as he laid facing the wall.

Trevor had a mix of emotions overcome him. The weakness Floyd showed reminded him of a side of himself he greatly disliked.

It reminded him of being a kid; cowering and being beaten anyway. He had pledged to himself that _his_ cruelty would be far worse than anything anyone could possibly inflict upon him.

Seeing Floyd weep quietly to himself, all the while still wearing those ridiculous pajamas, inspired a rare sense of guilt in Trevor, irritation surging and showing itself in his tensed brow.

He sat down on the bed beside Floyd and kicked off his boots. He then struggled as he peeled off those obnoxiously tight pants at last.

Down to nothing but a pair of pink, girly underwear, which he had somehow forgotten about hours ago, he felt tired and sickeningly sober. He got up and left the room for a moment, in search of his drugs. He returned to Floyd’s room with his stash in hand, sitting down beside the broken man.

Trevor smoked until he was too high to think about anything at all, much less the damage he had caused, filling the room with acrid smoke.  Normally a binge like this wouldn't leave him with the capacity to sleep, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, and with all the work he'd done since then, he could feel it all catching up with him.

With a sigh he eventually leaned back, rolling onto his side to press his form against Floyd’s, taking the other in his arms.

He held Floyd close… almost... tenderly.

Floyd didn’t resist any longer, instead, he merely continued to sob quietly.

“Shhh, Floyd, shhh, it’s alright…” Trevor whispered gently, “No one can hurt you when I’m here…”

 


	3. Dregs of sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floyd struggles to keep his life together. The mess only gets bigger.

_Eyes burned like fiery spheres in endless darkness; surveying, analyzing, scrutinizing every little detail._

_Scarred lips curved back over dagger-sharp teeth, twisted into a wicked and very jagged grin._

_Floyd screamed, but no sound emanated from him. No matter how hard he struggled, he felt completely powerless against the oppressive hands grabbing him in the darkness, touching and groping and spreading him apart._

_His voice felt hoarse as he cried out, still flailing ineffectually against the ever-groping hands, trying not to catch another glimpse of those smoldering eyes._

 

* * *

 

Trevor awoke to the sound of worried muttering.

At his side lay a warm, soft, pink and trembling wreck of a man, right where he'd left him. Trevor nuzzled into Floyd's hair, drawing in his scent, savoring the feeling of having another _warm_ body against his for just a little while longer --even if the body in his arms resisted his affections and squirmed away at every touch.

After a few fleeting moments, a very scarred and tattooed hand moved to give Floyd's soft ass one last squeeze before he'd get to his feet.

"Next time _yer_ spoonin' _me_." Trevor said, giving his boys a check as he straightened. The elation of bodily contact gave him a high that left him in a good mood, at least for a the time being.

He wandered into the other bedroom to drag on a pair of jeans and disappeared out the front door, as he so often did on a whim.

Some time later, Floyd awoke from his twisted nightmares with a sharp cry, clinging desperately to the sheets.

" _Mr. Raspberry Jam_..." He groaned in agony, " _Whyyy_?..."

Tears stung at his eyes and he struggled to find the will to open them.

Mr. Raspberry Jam sat in silence on the dresser, gazing gently with his only intact eye.

 

After a few minutes of sobbing uncontrollably, Floyd got his sore body up. He limped to the bathroom, undressed and took a very, very long and very, very hot shower.

He stared at the wall blankly, trying not to let the memory haunt him.

He lingered under the hot water until he felt sufficiently sterilized and dried himself off.  With a towel around his waist he went to his room.  The sight of Trevor's uniform crumpled and discarded on the floor caused anxiety to raise in him like a rising tide.

"Oh, hey cousin." Wade said, coming to the door, having a glance over Floyd's shoulder at the mess of clothing discarded on the floor. "You seen Trevor?"

Floyd shook at the utterance of that wretched name.

"He-he just left." He said without turning around, "And I hope I never see his face again."

 _'Or yours for that matter.'_ He thought to himself.

"Oh..." Wade said, "Uh... that's not very _nice_ , cousin."

"Now listen here Wade, and listen good." Floyd said, finally turning to gaze angrily at his cousin.  His voice was intense but sounded hollow, but despite this, he felt it held infinitely more weight with Wade than it did with Trevor.

"I've been more than patient and hospitable to you and that-that--" He waved his hand in the direction of the front door dismissively, "-that **_FREAK_** , and I've had it just about up to **here** with all the c-crap he's putting me through!"

Floyd felt guilty for using a curseword in Debra's house, but dang it if it didn't feel... right.

"I-I-I told you to get him outta here and-and now-"

"Ohhh... did ya have a uh..." Wade paused, looking Floyd up and down, "a 'stick accident?'"

Floyd offered a puzzled look in return.

"Err, n-n-nevermind..." Wade said, glancing at the floor and scratching his jaw idly with one hand.

"Now, I can't in good conscience throw my cousin out into the streets, especially at the whims of that... that _monster_." Floyd said, peering nervously over his shoulder. "But he _cannot_ stay here anymore, Wade."

"Well..." Wade said, glancing away, "You're gonna have'ta take that up with Trevor, and I dunno if that's sucha good idea... Y'know, if ya value the shape-a yer nose or anythin'..."

Floyd scowled, wide-eyed and infuriated. He'd never been so gosh darn angry in all his years. He turned away from Wade, darkness looming over him.  He glanced at his watch; it was past noon...  What day was it?

Tuesday?  Wait... he was hours late for work.

Floyd shut the door in Wade's face, dressed as quickly as he could and flew out the front door.

"Whoa, whatcha rushin' for, Floyd?" Wade said dully as Floyd rushed past, knocking him back.  He stood there staring at the bedroom door blankly, attempting to collect his thoughts. He wondered how an axe had wound up stuck in there...

Had somethin' happened to Floyd?  Or was he just sick of them as per usual?  Trevor _could_ get a little difficult to deal with at times...

He saw Trevor's pipe sitting on Floyd's bed side table. It drew him into the room and he sat down on the bed to load himself a bowl of ice.

He took a deep hit, soon feeling the delightful edginess of good methamphetamines.  He glanced up from the pipe and noticed the jar of petroleum jelly, cap still unscrewed, sitting incriminatingly beside the defiled teddy bear on the desk.

Floyd acting strangely + recently used jar of lube + Floyd sleepin' in Trevor's arms = ???

Wade never was very good with math...

He glanced at Mr. Raspberry Jam, which only managed to surface troubling mental images.

He took another hit, switching his mind off.   He remembered when he was a kid; _Floyd was a few years older, but was always toting some sort of stuffed toy or another around.  Whenever siblings or cousins wanted to mess with him, all they'd have to do is snatch Mr. Jam, or some other helpless toy from Floyd's arms and hold it just out of reach over his head._

Wade had been powerless then to do anything but look on. _He failed to realize he felt the exact same way now..._

He was actually a little surprised Mr. Jam had only lost an eye after all these years.

 

* * *

 

Floyd stepped into his boss's office, head down, tail tucked like a dog that knew it would be punished for chewing up its master's favorite sex toy.

He was shaking and nervous. He'd messed up bad. He'd messed up real, real bad, maybe **too** bad this time. He lifted his gaze to find his boss staring directly at him.

"Hebert, how kind of you to grace us with your presence today." His boss barked, rich with sarcasm. He had the tone of a man who dreamed of being a drill sergeant but had always been 'physically unfit'.

"I-I'm so sorry sir..." Floyd stuttered.  He wasn't sure his head could lower any further.

"This is the first time you've been late I think...  At least, there's nothing on your record. What kept you?"

Floyd cringed at the thought.

"I-I overslept.  My alarm didn't even go off...  I got here as fast as I could, sir."

The man sighed and gave Floyd a skeptical look. He was a dependable worker, always on time, often early, and never once in all his years as a stevedore did he get a write-up. Floyd's boss sat back in his chair and marked something down in his books.

"Well, luckily for you, we over-scheduled for today anyway, so you can take the rest of the day off." He said without looking up.

Floyd felt a guilt-tinged wave of relief overcome him.

"Just take this as a warning, alright? No excuses, Hebert."

"T-thank you sir."

"Don't mention it... But you'd better be here bright and early tomorrow or we will be having quite a _different_ talk."

"Yes sir!" Floyd said before he excused himself.  He pulled off a glove and wiped his forehead as he came down the steps of the main office.

"Heya Floyd."

Floyd was startled from his dense train of thought.  He almost always assumed an unexpected voice to be Trevor these days, but he knew this voice. It was a friend.

"Well, hello Ralph." Floyd said in reply, a little exhausted sounding.

"What's goin' on buddy, you get the day off too?" Ralph said, stepping towards him. He lifted a gloved hand to his head to block the sun from his eyes, getting a good look at the other man.

"Yeah, I did.  Darnedest thing, I just couldn't get up this mornin'." Floyd said, glancing down at the ground.

"You look like you've been through a thresher." Ralph said, cocking his head a bit as he looked Floyd over.

Floyd nodded grimly.

"Uh... Well you look like you could use a good time, man.  My bro is havin' a BBQ at the beach tonight, y'wanna come along?" Ralph offered earnestly.

"Uh... I dunno-I..." Floyd began, but then the thought of the alternative came to mind.  He didn't want to go back to the condo... Not now.  He couldn't even handle the thought of seeing Trevor again.

"Err-maybe I should take ya up on that, I could use a nice day off."

"Sounds good." Ralph said, and they began walking toward the parking lot.

"So, uh... Should I even ask about Deb?" Ralph said cautiously.

"Huh?  -oh Debra?  No, she's good, still on that business trip."

"... Still?" Ralph said, almost to himself.

"Yep, but she's doin' fine actually, good, good."

"Ah, that's good." Ralph said, he couldn't help but notice the strange, bothered look in Floyd's eyes.  But he didn't feel it right to press it.

Instead, he hoped a nice afternoon at the beach would help cheer his friend up.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, after the hot afternoon sun had long sunk below the horizon, Floyd was very drunk, staring into a bonfire on the beach, unable to do much but run bitter memories through his mind.

He didn't like drinking.  He had a low tolerance and it made him feel uneasy and sickly more than anything else.  He'd thought maybe a few beers could help relax him and take his mind off things, but so far it did the opposite.

He wanted to curl up in a soundproof shell, to hide away...  But when he closed his eyes, his head swam and he remembered that nightmare... _Those eyes_... The feeling of Trevor's tough hands in places they shouldn't be...

He shuttered, suddenly feeling very sick.

"You alright, pal?"

It was Ralph.  He clapped a hand down on Floyd's shoulder, making him jump.

"Oh-- yeah-yeah..." Floyd forced, but wasn't anywhere near okay in all honesty.

"You look terrible man, is somethin' wrong?"

"No-no, it's all gonna be alright...  Debra... Debra's just gotta... come back." Floyd breathed.

There came a vaguely awkward pause.

"Gee, buddy. You want me to walk ya home? You don't look too good..."

"Yeah... maybe  -- no... -no." Floyd said, sitting up and waving a hand in front of his face dismissively.  His eyes opened on the shifting ocean, watching waves break and stretch over the beach.  "I don't wanna be a bother."

More-so, he didn't want Ralph to see the state of his home life and he definitely didn't wanna answer the questions it would inevitably raise. 

He hadn't a single soul to vent to in the world... and so the status quo continued unabated.  He pushed the thoughts and emotions down deep where they had begun to manifest as a dark pit of grief, deep, deep within.  Shoving it down worked however, just long enough to keep a level head outside of the house.

But at home, even just being in the vague vicinity of Trevor caused him great anxiety, and emotions ran rampant. 

He remembered a time when everything seemed normal...  At least on the surface.  Sometimes he thought forlornly of those days.  It made him feel a powerful longing for some sort of normalcy... It seemed so far away.

At this point, any memory devoid of Trevor felt like a good memory.

His stomach turned at the thought of going home... He never wanted to return again... Not after...

"What's on your mind, Floyd? You look a wreck."

"I-I..." Floyd tried, but quickly gave up, " -- Look, I appreciate yer concern, but I really don't wanna talk about it."

"A-alright Floyd...  Well let me know if ya need somethin', alright buddy?"

Floyd was kind of sorry to see Ralph walk away, even if his introverted side _was_ showing its face.

If it was up to him, he'd be at home, warm and cuddly with Mr. Raspberry Jam, or even Debra, though admittedly, she wasn't much of a cuddler.

His body yearned for contact...

He tensed and shook at the thought of Trevor holding him.  The very worst part, it seemed, was how good a little bit of tenderness and shared warmth had felt after the traumatizing things Trevor had done...

He let out an anguished sound, his eyes threatening to well with tears.

To think it felt good to be _held_ by that... that _monster_.

He felt at the breaking point, and here he was trying to have a nice evening at the beach.

Floyd glanced at the rest of the party a few yards away, chatting and laughing, having a great, care-free time and enjoying the beautiful evening.

He felt a pang in his heart that told him he didn't belong.  It wasn't exactly a new feeling...

He got himself up to his feet, and the shift of balance threw his center of gravity off, and he staggered in the direction of his home, nearly falling. It was only a short walk back to the condo.  Perhaps he would be lucky and find it empty...

His luck wasn't so great, and as he ascended the stairs to his apartment, he noticed the lights on and the throb of music cranked way, way too loud. He sighed and rolled his eyes miserably.

He came to the front door and shuttered, considering getting a hotel room for the night instead, but wearily he pushed the door open.  A wall of heavy rock music met him at the open door and the wailing guitars raised his blood pressure instantaneously.  He stepped inside, increasingly regretting the decision, and peered into the living room.

Wade was sprawled across the tainted sofa, looking completely trashed and loving it.

He glanced at the other couch where Trevor sat naked and sweaty, grinding up into the encrusted eye hole of Mr. Raspberry Jam.

Floyd's heart fell, if it could fall any further.  He had a chance... He could disappear into his room and possibly never get noticed, but watching his beloved childhood toy being defiled... yet again, by a grown man, ignited anger and resentment deep within him.  Without a second thought, he surged forward and snatched the crusty teddy from Trevor's firm grasp.  Trevor let out a snort.

"Ohh, _hello cupcake_." Trevor said gruffly, thighs spreading to accentuate his free-standing erection.  He had a look on his face as if he'd just been served his second course; delighted and ravenous.

Floyd shivered violently, anxiety overcoming him in a way he had never felt before.  He began to back away, wide-eyed, in horror.

Trevor grumbled ominously.  He sat up and gave himself a stroke with one hand, his other resting on his thigh as he gazed upon Floyd with a sordid expression which could easily be mistaken for the look of a starved dog eying meat.

The song changed, and for a brief moment there was silence until another thrash punk track came screeching onto the radio.

Wade was borderline unconscious, but the sudden silence stirred him.  He clawed his way to a sitting position, gazing hazily at Trevor, then to Floyd as he backed worriedly away.

Wade pulled himself to his feet and stepped toward Trevor.  He put a hand on one of Trevor's shoulders and placed himself in Trevor's path, rocking his hips against Trevor's bare chest and pulling the side of his jersey up to try and get his attention.

"Trevor, leave'm alone." Wade said, his voice lowering to a whisper, "He's kinda _sensitive_."

Trevor glanced at Wade and scowled deeply, "Yeah, well I'll try to take that into consideration when I'm balls deep later..."

Trevor shoved Wade aside, but Wade resisted, holding on to Trevor's shoulders.

"C'mon Trev, leave 'im be.  He don't deserve it..."

Trevor glanced up at Wade, annoyance creasing his brow.

" _Ohhhh_ , but **you** do, _dontcha_ Wade??" He said, hooking a thumb in one of the belt loops of Wade's pants.

 

* * *

 

Floyd was surprised and relieved to find Trevor wasn't following him to his room. He sat sadly on the side of his bed, staring at the floor, Not realizing how tightly he clung to Mr. Raspberry Jam.

It was getting late... He should go to bed early so he can be fresh in the morning.

He changed to his pajamas and refused to open the door again lest it tempt visitors.

Floyd laid down, comfortable at last in his own bed. He breathed a heavy sigh and began to fade to sleep when he heard his door squeak open.

No _. NO. NONONONO..._

He didn't move, rather he stayed perfectly still, feigning sleep.

He felt weight shift the springs of the mattress beside him and he struggled to calm his trembling.

 _Please God no... please..._ _nononono_

"Floyd."

There came a pause...

Floyd refused to move. He forced his eyes shut and stayed as still as possible, barely even allowing himself to breathe, lest Trevor take notice.

"C'mon Floyd, I know you ain't asleep." Trevor said, and there came the sound of liquid swirling in a bottle and the stench of alcohol.

Floyd shook.

"Sit the fuck up before I chew your god damned throat out." Trevor snapped viciously and Floyd scrambled up in response.

"W-what?" He said, feigning a sleepy start.

"Floyd, _pumpkin_ , I didn't get to kiss you good night..." Trevor purred sarcastically. He offered his bottle of rum and Floyd winced at the thought of more alcohol on top of his current stomach ache.

"Trevor, if I'm late to work again t'morrow, I'm gonna lose my job." Floyd said sadly.

"Awww, but what's so bad about that, eh? They take advantage of ya Floyd. They weren't even worth robbin', were they?" Said Trevor, he edged himself over a bit toward Floyd causing their thighs to touch. "Fuck them, you should come work for _me_!" 

 "I-I-I-I don't think so Trevor..." Floyd started and Trevor's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Floyd tried to shrug the arm off, but Trevor only tightened his grip, his forearm hooking around Floyd's neck.

"It ain't hard Floyd, ya just gotta be _loyal_ and _true_..." Trevor flirted, his eyes softening, attempting to be relate-able, "And ya gotta have _skills_. And _determination_."

"Trevor I-I don't think I could handle a criminal lifestyle!" Floyd protested, trying desperately to free himself from Trevor's grasp.

"Aww now Floyd, y'aint gotta be a _thug_." Trevor reasoned, "To be honest, I don't think yer cut out for that linea work either..."

Floyd went quiet, gazing at the floor; a miserable, concerned expression came to his face.

"Y'just gotta have... some _skills_." Trevor reasoned, "And I've seen the... _potential_."

Floyd did not like the vaguely sexual way Trevor breathed that last word, and he winced at the smell of rum on the other man's breath, so close up...  He grimaced in horror as Trevor leaned in to crush a kiss against his mouth.

Floyd recoiled, wincing as Trevor's overly soft lips pressed passionately against his firmly closed mouth. A violent, dirty shiver ran up his spine. Trevor's free hand came to rest on Floyd's leg.

The urge to resist surged in Floyd, and he forced both his hands against Trevor's chest and ducked his head out from under the creep's arm. He sprung to his feet, wiping Trevor's saliva from his lips as he staggered to the door.

"No Trevor! _NO_!" Floyd snapped, shaking from his adrenaline rush. This only seemed to encourage the other man, who got to his feet in turn.

Floyd slipped out the door and stumbled into the living room in search for Wade, as if his cousin was his only chance for salvation.

Wade stood in the kitchen digging through the fridge. He straightened when he noticed Floyd frantically reaching for him.

"What's up Cousin?" Wade said, but despite how slow Wade could be sometimes, he had a feeling he already knew.

"Help me-help me...!" Floyd whispered desperately.

Wade was shirtless and the other man noticed in the brief pause that there were small half-moon bruises all over his collar bone and shoulders.

Trevor stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, an impatient scowl plastered on his mug.

" _Ohhhh_ , well, maybe I'll get the _both_ of ya to take turns suckin' on my boy." Trevor said huskily as a groping hand reached the prominent bulge in his sweat pants.

Wade froze, his eyes drifting from Floyd to Trevor with a blank sort of expression. His tactic was to simply stay still and hope that Trevor's predatory gaze didn't fall on him.

Trevor took a step towards them.

"The fuck you two dipshits starin' at? **_C'mon_** , get to _work_." He barked threateningly, whipping his cock out unceremoniously and giving it a tug.

"N-no-no-" Floyd stuttered, moving to cower behind Wade.

Trevor was licking his lips as he approached the two, thinking of the awful, delightful things he could do...

Just when all seemed lost, the tense silence was broken by the chiming, jaunty ringtone from Trevor's phone as it vibrated across the kitchen counter.

" _Fuck_." Trevor snapped, groaning with annoyance as he reached for it with one hand, his other still stroking himself absentmindedly.

"Shit... _Michael_?" He said as he glanced at the screen...

At this time of night? He could be calling for... _anything_...

He hesitated, but ultimately accepted the call, turning to step back into the hallway, hand ever-toying with himself.

"Oh thank god, _thank god_." Floyd whispered with relief, dropping his forehead to Wade's bare shoulder.  Upon closer inspection, he finally realized that the small half-moons smattering Wade's shoulders and collarbones were actually bite marks...

They lingered in the kitchen for a moment; Wade went back to rooting through the fridge as Floyd strained his ears trying to listen to Trevor's conversation.  He figured, if he stayed in the kitchen, at least he could keep the counters in between him and the beast...

Soon enough, Trevor wandered back into the kitchen, a somewhat distracted expression on his face.

"Don't go too far now, I'll be back for you two..." Trevor growled at the two men in the kitchen. With that he turned and disappeared

They heard the front door open, then slam shut, and Floyd felt like he had won the lottery. He rushed to the door and locked it, feeling confident about the amount of rest he'd be able to get now...

And in the first time in a few weeks he slept through the night without being haunted by nightmares.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more GTAV fun follow my blog on Tumblr: http://www.trevorphilipsismyspiritanimal.tumblr.com


	4. Fleeting Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About two weeks later.

Floyd told himself not to get too used to the peace and quiet he had been blessed with for a good week running, but after managing to (mostly) restore the condo back to its previous state without having to see or hear (or smell) Trevor Philips, he began to think that maybe he could rejoice... Maybe he wasn't coming back after all.

Even his nightmares had gotten a bit better...  --Or, less frequent at very least. Things were beginning to look up, and when Wade wandered by asking if Floyd had seen any signs of 'Trev', it seemed as though he really had seen the last of of that monster.

So, when Debra finally returned from her business trip, and there was no apparent evidence of his slobbish roommates left to be discovered, Floyd somehow felt whole again. Though Debra didn't seem particularly grateful for all the work he'd done (or even notice it for that matter), she wasn't upset, and that was definitely a plus. Like with everything, Floyd felt as though he was walking on broken glass around her, but despite this constant anxiety, he somehow felt safer with Debra's presence. 

He had a single, quiet evening alone with his girlfriend; they had dinner, and she told him about the island they were staying on, and it was pleasant, even if she did seem to be editing herself as she recounted her experience. Everything seemed to be going just fine, everything felt _normal_. That is, until she asked boredly if he expected sex. A tidal wave of guilt and grief came over him, and he wound up in a fetal position on his bed, reliving the horror he'd gone through all over again in vivid detail.

It took him several restless hours, but eventually he faded into a troubled, nightmare-riddled sleep.

 

* * *

 

"You're crap, Floyd! CRAP! You're not a man at all!... Bob's right about you!"

"Whoa! Who's Bob?" Trevor growled, his scarred eyebrow raising in suspicion.

"I want both of you to leave NOW!" Debra roared, storming to the hall to point sharply at the door, "You and your _weird_ friend!"

"Whoa, hey!" Trevor interrupted as he got from his knees to his feet, "My name is Trevor, sweetheart."

Floyd lingered between the kitchen and the livingroom, raising his hands up to create a frail divide between them.  Debra roared past him, failing to notice Floyd's feeble attempt to protect her.

"I could give a FUCK what your FUCKING name is!' She shouted, feeling a sudden burst of liberation and confidence.  She went for the handgun she knew was tucked into the kitchen drawer and armed herself.  She had questioned its presence before, but now she was glad it was there. "I'm not afraid to use this! I'm not... Bob taught me!"

Floyd grit his teeth. Bob... F-fucking Bob... He should have known... All this time...

His eyes fell on Trevor's knife which sat on the kitchen counter, and in a moment of desperate anger and defeat, he snatched it up.

"FUCK BOB!" He cried, brandishing the knife desperately.  There was no one... no one left on the earth he could trust...

The fine hairs at the back of Trevor's neck stood on edge.  He was sick of all the fucking fighting... Couldn't we all just be a happy family for ONCE?

"You people are not very FUCKING NICE!" Trevor snapped, his eyes locked on the pistol pointed at his face.  He watched her finger squeeze the unbudging trigger, and advanced on her in the span of a heartbeat. The rough palm of his left hand came over her knuckles in a swift movement as he took control of her aim.  He forced it up and back, shoving the muzzle under her chin, teeth bared, eyes wide with anger. His other hand came up to cock the pistol and squeezing the trigger with her own finger. She hardly had enough time to realize what was happening before a loud pop blew her thoughts out of her skull. He watched as blood and brain matter spattered wetly across the kitchen window.

He let her body slump to the floor and straightened, rolling his shoulders.  He didn't bother reaching for the gun, instead he stared at the crumpled mess he'd made of Debra at his feet. After lingering there for a brief moment, Trevor turned and glanced at Floyd who had stumbled backwards, apparently in shock.

"Gee, Floyd, what a mess, huh?" Trevor said, letting out a breath of a chuckle to round out his words, not realizing how grim he looked with that blood spattered grin stretched across his face. "Well... _ding dong, the bitch is dead!_ "

"Y-you killed Debra...!" Floyd muttered, though even speaking those words couldn't convince him what he'd seen was really real...  His face twitched, and he looked genuinely shaken, for good reason. "You... ruined _everything_."

"Now, now sugar, I didn't _'ruin'_ nothin'.  If anything, I _saved_ you! From _her_. She was ruining you!" Trevor said, taking a cocky step forward to go with his bullshit, "Did you even hear that shit she was sayin' about you? Now. C'mon."

Trevor motioned for Floyd to follow, simply ignoring the knife that hovered warningly between them.  Trevor was never sure if that technique would actually work, but it proved to be surprisingly effective before; just pretend nothing is wrong.

Floyd looked unsure. The hand holding the blade wavered as his eyes drifted to the floor...

"I said, _come the fuck on_." Trevor snapped impatiently, and that's when he saw something inside of Floyd's eyes break. It wasn't new to Trevor. He'd seen it many times with his very own eyes; a person's soul buckling under the weight of hopelessness and grief.

Floyd noticed Trevor staring, and his gaze drifted to the middle distance, the color slowly fading from his face.

"What the FUCK did I just tell you, huh?" Trevor barked, hoping a bit of force would get the other man moving.

"YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" Floyd wailed, hopeless. He sprung towards Trevor, swinging his knife wildly. Trevor's doubt allowed Floyd to inflict a mighty gash above his eyebrow.

Within a blink of an eye, Trevor snatched up Floyd's wrist with a powerful hand, rendering his weapon useless.

"Hey, hey-hey! Calm the fuck down, alright? Just--shhshhhhh, c'mon..." Trevor attempted to sooth the anguish flaring up in Floyd, but the man was inconsolable. It took a hard, demeaning slap to the face to quiet his sobbing at all.

"Listen Floyd, listen-listen..." Trevor said, getting in his face. His hand came up to grasp the other's jaw, squeezing his cheeks to take control of his focus, "You come with me and the other boy--yer cousin, right?--and we'll aaaalll go far, far away from here, yeah? We'll have fun."

Floyd's frantic struggling stopped for a beat and his eyes focused on Trevor's face. Despite the other man's unusually gentle voice, the effect was completely lost in part from the blood dribbling down his features, a grizzly reminder of how dire this situation was. Floyd shuttered, forcing himself to stare into the face of his own nightmares.  He choked and sobbed, trembling, but in that moment his hand tightened around the handle of the blade.

"I love you... I love you Floyd, you understand? More than that psycho, cheating succubus ever could, alright? I saved you from her. _I saved you_. Now. Just... give me the knife." Trevor said, releasing Floyd's wrist in a display of trust, opening his palm to accept it. "We'll go far, far away, yeah? And you'll work for me--"

The timid look in Floyd's expression seemed to suggest Trevor's sweet talk was working, so when the blade plunged sharply into his shoulder a split second later, he was genuinely surprised.

Floyd had been aiming for that tempting dotted line across Trevor's neck, and had he been a more skilled fighter, probably would have hit his target, but the gouge still felt good anyway; still filled him with at least a touch of self-satisfaction.

"RRRRGHHH! Mmmmh, you little prick!" Trevor snarled. He'd taken this too far... too far...

In a fit of rage, he shoved Floyd backwards, dragging the blade from his shoulder with him, and with little effort he grabbed and disarmed the other man, snatching his knife back for himself.

"It could have been beautiful!" Trevor whined, waving the knife in Floyd's face as he crowded him into the wall. Trevor's voice broke, sadness capturing his expression for a moment before anger took over. "We coulda been together!"

Floyd stared into Trevor's face, but his eyes unfocused. It was astounding how quickly everything fell apart... Just a few hours ago, he'd felt like life was A-OK, but the second he laid eyes on that sweating, balding man, he knew chaos would soon follow...  But he'd rather spend an eternity in hell than another day with Trevor Philips. He had no words, rather, he spat in Trevor's furious face.

"Now that was un- **fucking** -necessary!" Trevor snarled though clenched teeth before reaching up to wipe blood and spit from his eyes.

"I-I-I HATE YOU!" Floyd shouted, scrambling to tear at Trevor's ugly face with his fingers, "You ruined my life!!"

Trevor struggled against the other's clawing, an anguished growl escaping the depths of his chest. In a surge of spite and rage, he plunged his knife into Floyd's throat, cutting deep and messy, adding to the already copious amounts of gore that coated him from head to toe.

He watched, dulled by anger as life spilled out from Floyd's neck. He watched the life drain from his eyes, and when Floyd went slack he took hold of him, a close hug of sorts.

An inexplicable feeling came over Trevor, and he involuntarily whimpered out his nostrils. Could this be guilt he felt? Remorse?

_It didn't have to end like this..._

Normally, Trevor was comfortably numb when he was finished 'tying up loose ends', but really, he'd grown rather fond of Floyd...

"Fuck..." He choked as he carried Floyd's still body to the couch where he could lay him out. He sat on the arm rest, staring out at the afternoon sun reflecting off of the ocean through the windows, finding it impossible to let go of the grief he felt inside.

This wasn't what he wanted... but that was nothing new.

After deciding that escaping the memory was the only thing to do, Trevor got himself to his feet, wiped his blade on his jeans.  He was heading toward the door, about to leave with his head in a cloud when he suddenly remembered one last thing.

_Just a little something to remember you by..._

With Mr. Raspberry Jam tucked under his arm, he headed for the door, prepared to go and never look back, though crossing the threshold had the fresh memory reemerging. He felt sadness and regret tie a knot in his chest, and he wanted to sob, but it subsided irritatingly, resulting in a mere dull ache sinking in his chest.

"Oh, hey there Trevor!"

Wade... God it felt good to hear that dumb little shit's voice. He whimpered out an awkward laugh before descending the steps, trying to force down the vivid and strange emotions roaring inside him.

"Hey there Wade." He grumbled, slightly amazed with how easy it was to slip back into comfortable normalcy with the other.

"Did ya meet Debra?" Wade asked innocently, glancing at the red spattered all over the other man.

"Interesting lady..."

"I should probably go say hi."

"I... wouldn't." Trevor interrupted, twitching.

"Why not...?"

"Let's go get in the car, alright? Let's go have the time of our lives!" Trevor exclaimed, turning toward his truck which was parked nearby. He knew Wade would follow.

He'd have to add onto the already insurmountable mountain of lies he'd already told the younger man...  He'd have to keep leading Wade on until the end of time, and he knew that already... But Wade was too precious of a resource to lose hold of. He needed that pathetic little junkie, just as much as he was desperately needed, and he found he preferred it that way.

His mood lightened, watching Wade sprint towards the Bodhi. Well, at least he still had that obnoxious, lovable little shit.

"Oh, I know exactly where to take _you_."

 

[The 'End']


End file.
